A History of Tobi
by Rikoki
Summary: Over time, black hair turned purple, brown eyes turned gold - and accents faded away into nothingness." Just as simple as it sounds -- My interpretation of Tobi's life before Lacryma, Timespaces, or the Dragon Knights. Please R & R!


Arjun = Tobi

(This story takes place in **India** - I spent probably a solid week studying for this one, since I wanted everything to be perfect for my favorite Noein character. All of the customs are Wikipedia/Google born - let me know if something is wrong and I'll change it.)

ANOTHER history thing. I'm just going crazy with these things, lately :)

**DISCLAIMER: I still do NOT own Noein, Tobi, India, or anything associated with Noein. **

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Arjun was born barely three days before the leaves had started to fall outside, and there wasn't a day his grandmother wasn't sitting beside Daya,

carrying bright clothes to wrap the baby with,

or trinkets from the shrine,

or if Daya was lucky, sometimes she would even bring Dudk Pakh with raisins - that was her favorite.

But Arjun wasn't given his name until almost a week after his birth, wrapped in red and purple and blue and anything but black and white to see his priest for the first time.

Black and white would bring a foul name, grandmother had told Daya - He'll name him after coal or ghosts. No no, only color for our baby.

He was named after the color of peacock feathers, instead.

Arjun's father had died in America, while Daya was still pregnant with their son. The accident had been terrible, and she had been asked to return home as soon as possible

for the baby's sake.

But years away from her own family left a deep scar across her religion, tradition, and even the way she still had to prostrate before her mother every morning, still holding her infant son close.

Grandmother might even have said her passing was a gift - the Gods' way of saving her child from a life on infidelity.

But Arjun was only three years old when the rituals began, and his mother was burned and collected.

He never did look at the family shrine the same way, again.

When he was five, Arjun was finally allowed to light the Diya by himself in the morning, without Grandmother's help. Then she would wake up, and he would kneel and touch her feet, which were always cold and smelled like peppermint.

Grandmother was always very

very clean.

Once he even overslept, and forgot to light it before sunrise, but Grandmother had only laughed, reminding him that even the sun forgot to rise on time after he was born.

Of course, he knew that time had only changed - but then, he had always known a little bit more than his grandmother.

A little.

Arjun's uncle and aunt both worked in Mumbai with computers, and he was given his first system on his ninth birthday.

He took quickly to it, and visited them often when he could after school - Grandmother would spend her time praying or writing to his grandfather, who was spending time across the sea.

He'd never met him, but grandmother had only good things to say about him.

When Arjun was eleven, his cousin was born - a baby girl named Sarasa with pale skin and dark eyes like her mother. Once she was old enough, Arjun taught her how to braid her own hair, and would even let her practice on his, because she could never do her own.

Then, they came.

His grandmother had called them monsters, sent to conquer their Gods' great work.

His aunt and uncle had called them "Shangrila," and told Arjun to run. "Take nothing," they had said. "They will take everything and leave nothing - take Sarasa and run far far away, to the North if you can."

And he had tried.

Almost three months later, Sarasa was seven years old, and sick.

She was dying, but Arjun decided not to leave her - she could have to be burned and collected, and someone would have to send off her spirit, wouldn't they?

So he laid with her that night, carving yellow paint away from her bracelets to melt into ink for himself,

burning small flowers beneath his eyes as Sarasa slept.

That morning, he was still there to send away her spirit,

and pray for her;

even if he wasn't sure whether he believed it or not.

Then, they came.

Men dressed in black and white, with names he couldn't understand.

His english was sufficient,

and he remembered words like "Shangrila" and "Timespace."

He also knew how to use a computer, he had told them - cold and shivering against sunset - maybe they would take him with them, if he could help them.

Maybe.

Tobi was given his second name barely three days before the snow had started to fall outside - named for his size and intellect, rather than his appearance.

Over time, black hair turned purple, brown eyes turned gold,

and accents faded away into nothingness.

Sometimes Tobi would wake up just before the sun rose above Lacryma - the light from his Diya made of old metals and clay never quite bright enough to wake up Atori, and it made Tobi feel better somehow.


End file.
